


Along the Way

by fhsa_archivist



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-16
Updated: 2005-03-16
Packaged: 2019-02-05 18:58:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: The obligatory post-Antarctica story that keeps growing and growing.Sequel: *sigh* Yeah, this is the sequel to The Medicine of Life.Notes: Remy POV this time.





	Along the Way

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

I woke slowly, reluctant to leave sleep behind. To be held, kept safe and warm, has always been my dearest wish. At least I'd had this for a time, if only in my dreams. 

 

Wait. It wasn't a dream at all. Someone *was* holding me. I could feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and hear and feel the steady thump of his heart as my head lay against his chest. His very hairy chest. Carefully, I opened my eyes, and, yes, I was definitely embraced by a pair of massive arms. 

 

"Take it easy, Remy. Ya get any more tense and ya'll snap." 

 

Who? Whaa-? On the edge of panic, I vaguely recognized that voice. 

 

Wolverine? Logan! Yes, Logan was there with me. And... he cared for me. Had taken care of me last night. Fed me, reassured me, held me... made love with me. 

 

I lifted my head and looked up into his face. He smiled - *smiled*! - at me. 

 

"How ya feelin' this mornin', kid?" he asked, gently stroking my hair. I remembered then his fascination with my long, auburn hair. "Did ya sleep well?" 

 

"Oui. I slep' jus' fine," I told him, surprised that it was the truth. For the first time since Antarctica, I had; I'd slept deeply and peacefully. 

 

He yawned, stretching, and rubbed his warm hands along my back. "Ya hungry?" 

 

My stomach grumbled and he chuckled. "Guess so." Another yawn, and he made a move to pull away from me. "'M just goin' ta make ya somethin' ta eat, Rem. Not goin' far, darlin'." 

 

"Non," I protested, reluctant to lose the moment. "Jus' another minute. Don' leave yet." 

 

His warm amusement washed over me as he indulged my request. After several minutes, he gave a snort of feigned impatience. "Got plenty of time fer this, kiddo. Right now, ya need to eat. Gotta get yer strength back, y'know. I have plans for ya." 

 

"Plans?" I was fascinated and titillated. "What kind of plans?" 

 

"Let me feed ya. If ya finish yer breakfast, I'll give ya a demonstration." 

 

Oh. In that case... I rolled to the side, letting him rise from our makeshift bed on the floor. He was naked. Somehow, that fact had slipped my mind. Grinning, I watched as he climbed to his feet. "Dat's a good look for y', Wolvie." 

 

"Shaddup," he grouched. "And don't call me that." 

 

For the first time in forever, I felt like laughing. So I did. "'Kay. No more 'Wolvie'. Won' call you dat no more. Promise." 

 

With a growl, he grabbed his jeans from the floor and stalked off towards the kitchen. "Impertinent kid. Wolvie, my ass! My name is Wolverine - or Logan - NOT 'Wolvie'!" 

 

"Je comprends... Wolvie." I made it up the stairs before he came storming back into the living room. 

 

"I'm gonna make ya pay fer those smartass ways, Gumbo," he yelled after my rapidly retreating form. 

 

"I can hardly wait, cher." 

 

*** 

 

After my shower, I dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. As the appetizing scents of food reached me, my stomach growled again. Whatever Logan had cooked smelled wonderful. Hurriedly, I descended the stairs. 

 

"Hope yer hungry, darlin'," Logan greeted me from his seat at the table. He watched my reaction closely. The plate, loaded with scrambled eggs and toast, made my mouth water in anticipation. He'd set the table nicely. No frills, but everything I might need was present: jam, salt, pepper, even milk and sugar for the cup of tea he'd set next to my place. 

 

Damn. A domestic Wolverine! Would wonders never cease? Of course, every aspect of this softer, kinder Logan had been unexpected to say the least. 

 

I blinked. Shook my head and blinked again. Reaching down, I pinched my thigh. 

 

"Ouch." 

 

"What the hell ya doin' kid?" 

 

"T'ought I mus' be dreamin' all of dis." 

 

He snorted. "Sit down and eat," he ordered gruffly. 

 

Ah. There was the Wolverine I knew. 

 

"Looks bien, Wolvie," I teased, taking my place across from him. 

 

Pointing his fork at me, he said sternly, "Ya'll eat every bite, bub. Wanna see a clean plate. And," he added with a fierce frown, "*don't* call me 'Wolvie'." 

 

"'Kay," I agreed soberly, hiding my not-so-sober expression by concentrating on my food. 

 

Although he was finished long before I was, he sat there watching me with a curiously hesitant air. 

 

"What?" I finally asked cautiously, setting my fork down. 

 

Drawing in a deep breath, Logan paused before answering. "I... Remy, I want ya ta do something fer me this morning." 

 

Uh oh. Whatever he wanted, I had a bad feeling about it. "I ain' gonna like dis, am I?" 

 

"Probably not," he confirmed. "But ya really need to do this. *I* need ya ta do this." 

 

Sitting back in my chair, I crossed my arms on my chest defensively and waited in silence. 

 

"Want ya ta go up to the mansion with me. Let Hank take a look at ya." 

 

Before he even finished speaking I was shaking my head in vehement denial. "'M fine, Logan. Tol' y' dat last night." 

 

"Uh huh. Look, kid, ya haven't been eating or sleeping. Yer run down. Ya gotta let Hank check ya over." 

 

Continuing to shake my head, I added a frown to my face. "Non." 

 

"Remy... Do it fer me?" he cajoled. "I'd really 'preciate it." 

 

The bastard. "Ohhh. Playin' dirty, eh?" 

 

He shrugged. "Whatever works, kid. Whaddya say? I'd hate ta have ta drag ya there by force." 

 

"Merde!" Reluctantly I folded, well aware that he was quite capable of throwing me over his shoulder and delivering me to Hank. "'Kay, Logan," I said sulkily. "Remy'll go." 

 

Generous in his victory, Logan had the grace to erase all signs of triumph from his expression. "Thanks, Rem." 

 

Rising from the table, he quickly cleared the dishes. "Get yer shoes on," he said, nodding at my bare feet. 

 

"Now? What's de hurry?" 

 

"The hurry is that if I give ya a chance ta think about it, ya'll come up with a hundred reasons to back out." 

 

"At least gimme a little time to digest my breakfast," I hedged. 

 

"No way. We go *now*." 

 

"But didn' y' promise t' show me these 'plans' after breakfast? Can' we do dat first?" 

 

"Later, kid. *After* ya see Hank." He grinned. "Then we'll have a little... fun." 

 

Resigned to my fate, I got ready and allowed myself to be hustled out of the door. 

 

*** 

 

Though I dragged my feet in an attempt to stave off the inevitable, our walk to the mansion passed all too quickly. I stopped a few feet from the door, searching my mind frantically for an excuse to avoid my fate. 

 

I hate the infirmary. Everything about it: the stark coldness of the place, the smells of antiseptic and medicines, the implements of torture (or so I viewed them) lying about. Most of all, though, I hated - and feared - the needles. It's silly, I know. Childish as it is, I have never been able to overcome my absolute horror of needles. 

 

Logan gave me a moment, then stepped to my side and laid one hand on my shoulder. 

"C'mon, Remy. You can do this." 

 

"Logan, I..." Shamed by my fear, I fell silent, swallowing heavily. 

 

"Easy, kid. Let's just get this over with, okay?" 

 

I took one step towards the door, then paused. "Cher... would you stay wit' Remy?" 

 

"'Course I will," he said, cupping the back of my neck with a large hand. "I know this is hard fer ya. Won't leave ya alone in there." 

 

"T'anks, Logan. S-sorry to be such a bebe 'bout dis." 

 

"Knock it off. No need ta apologize, I understand." 

 

"Mais-" 

 

"Listen," he interrupted, "can ya lower yer shields enough to just feel me? Make a link between us and still block the others?" 

 

"Oui, t'ink I can," I said hesitantly. "You sure 'bout dis, cher?" 

 

He nodded decisively. "Do it." 

 

"'Kay." Closing my eyes, I concentrated, reaching out to him with my mind. 

 

Warmth. Confidence in me. Understanding and sympathy, but no pity, washed over me. Relieved and filled with shaky confidence, I straightened my shoulders. "'M ready." 

 

Between my anxiety about seeing Henri and my concentration on that link with Logan, I'd completely forgotten to worry about running into the other X Men at the Mansion. When Jeannie and Scott emerged from the parlor to greet us, I was caught by surprise. 

More than halfway expecting Logan to step between us, I was a little dismayed that he stayed to one side. My trepidation must have been clear to him though, because a wave of comfort washed over me through the new link. 

 

"Remy!" Jean greeted me enthusiastically. "I'm so happy to see you!" She threw her arms around me, hugging me tightly. 

 

Not sure how to deal with this, I awkwardly patted her back. "Good t' see y', too, chere." 

 

Releasing me, she stepped back and studied my face with a concerned frown. "Are you okay, Remy? You're awfully pale. You've lost weight, too." 

 

"'M bien, Jeannie," I assured her. 

 

"You really should let Hank take a look at you. I know you don't like doctors, but-" 

 

"That's what we're here for, Red," Logan said, more than a little satisfaction in his tone. "Remy here is gonna get a physical." 

 

Scott smirked. "And you didn't have to tie him up and drag him here, kicking and screaming?" 

 

"I can be *very* convincing, Cyke." 

 

"Threatened him, huh?" 

 

Jean poked an elbow into Scott's ribs. Whatever remark he'd been about to voice went unsaid. "However you managed it, Logan, I'm happy that you've talked him into seeing Hank. We're both glad... Right, Scott?" 

 

"Yeah, sure. Thrilled beyond words," Cyclops agreed sarcastically. I noticed, however, that his expression revealed that he, too, was relieved. 

 

So confusing was this attitude of Scott's - I'd been under the impression that he'd banished me to the boathouse as a kind of punishment - that I could only stare at him in bemused disbelief. 

 

"What?" he finally asked. 

 

"He thinks ya hate him like the others do, Cyke," Logan explained. 

 

"Damn! Look, Gambit, I put you in the boathouse for your own protection. I don't blame you for anything. Hell, we've all made mistakes. Yours was no worse than anyone else's." 

 

Jean poked his ribs again. "I told you to explain that to him, didn't I?" 

 

Rubbing at his side, Scott nodded. "Yes, dear." 

 

Logan's amusement at this display made me smile. "T'anks f'r tellin' me dat, Scott. 'Preciate it." 

 

"C'mon, kid," Logan said impatiently. "You have a date with Hank." 

 

"What's de hurry? We shouldn' jus' run off. Would be rude, dat." 

 

"Ferget it, bub. They ain't gonna save ya. Let's go." 

 

Scott snorted. "Good try, Gambit.""We'll talk more later, Remy," Jean said, patting my arm. "You go on and let Henry take a look at you now." 

 

Without further ado, Logan hauled me down to the infirmary. 

 

*** 

 

Henri's look of stunned amazement on hearing why we were there was almost worth subjecting myself to the exam. Not quite, but almost. He gathered himself together quickly and got started. I think he was afraid that I'd back out if he gave me time to think about it. 

 

Logan insisted on staying in the room, and Henri had the good sense not to challenge him. I managed to stay fairly calm throughout most of the examination. Until Henri announced that he'd have to take a blood sample. 

 

Cringing away from the dreaded needle, I shook my head and said, "Non!" 

 

With wide eyes, Henri watched incredulously as Logan put an arm around my shoulders and soothed me with quiet words. Once I'd calmed down, he nodded to the doctor. "Go ahead, Hank. He'll be okay now." 

 

I buried my face against Logan's neck and concentrated on breathing evenly, the calm Logan blanketed me with through the link making it possible for me to sit quietly while blood was drawn. 

 

"There," Henri said when done. "You sit tight for a couple of minutes while I take a look at this. I'll be right back with vitamins and a diet for you." 

 

Shivering with reaction, I remained silent, still hiding my face against Logan. He rubbed my back soothingly and told me I'd done well. Said he was proud of me. Pressed a light kiss on my head. 

 

"Y' owe me, cher," I mumbled. 

 

"Don't worry, darlin'. When we get back to the boathouse, I'll give you what I promised this morning." 

 

"Y' better!" 

 

I distinctly heard a chuckle from Henri's direction. 

 

Armed with vitamins and a list of foods Henri wanted me to eat while I regained my strength, we headed up to the kitchen. Logan had insisted that he was the only anti-depressant I needed when Henri had mentioned the probable need for one. With a knowing smile, Beast had agreed - with the proviso that he be allowed to reconsider chemical intervention if I hadn't improved within a week. 

 

We'd just see about *that*! 

 

*** 

 

In the kitchen we busied ourselves raiding the refrigerator and cabinets, gathering enough food for the next couple of days. It wouldn't be an exciting diet, but I could put up with it for a while. Not that Logan would give me any choice in the matter... 

 

"Well, well, well. What have we here? I'm amazed that you have the nerve to show your face, traitor." 

 

Warren. In a truly hateful mood. 

 

With a warning growl, Logan moved to stand between us. "Cut the shit, *Angel*. Of all people, ya have no room ta talk 'bout the supposed sins of others." 

 

Eyebrows raised, Warren sneered at Logan. "What's this? Got a new pet, Wolverine?" 

 

I wanted to defend myself. Really, I did. Allowing Logan to protect me was damned embarrassing. But, I couldn't quite shake the feeling that Angel was right. I *was* a traitor - and I had lied to my fellow X Men. Shame kept me quiet. 

 

"Fuck off, Wings, or I'll hurt ya," Logan warned. 

 

"Ooooh. Aren't you the protective one? One would almost think you *cared* about this slime." 

 

"Shut it, Warren." Scott had come into the room. "Quit challenging Logan or I'll let him-" 

 

"Jesus!" Angel interrupted, shaking his head in disgust. "What the hell is going on around here? I thought you didn't like Wolverine, and as for Gambit..." 

 

"That's *enough*! Just shut up and leave the room, Warren. We're going to have a long talk about this attitude of yours later today." 

 

"Why not now?" Warren challenged. 

 

"Because," Scott said tightly, "I'm so pissed at you right now that I'd probably say things I might be sorry for later." 

 

"Go ahead, Scott. I can take it." 

 

"I said later, Warren. Now go." 

 

Logan, sensing my growing distress, moved to my side and soothingly rubbed my shoulders. "Easy there, Rem. He's an asshole; jest ignore him and concentrate on how I feel 'bout ya." 

 

Eyes narrowed, Warren fixed us with a disgusted glare. "Jesus! They're... Shit! They're a couple of faggots!" 

 

"Warren!" Jean spat, entering the kitchen. "That will be more than enough out of you." Her voice held a degree of disgust I'd never suspected she was capable of. "How you - how *any* mutant - could possibly pass judgement on another's lifestyle is beyond belief." 

 

"They're... it's unnatural, Jean." 

 

"Unnatural my *ass*!" Shaking her head in disbelief, she continued, "Love is love, Warren. Hetero or homosexual makes no difference, dammit." 

 

Warren's expression of hate - yes, hate - of not only me, but of the closeness between Logan and myself showed no signs of abating. 

 

"Jean," Scott said quietly. "This isn't the time or place, hon. We'll have a team meeting later to discuss the situation. I'm sure," he sneered, "that Worthington will act as town crier and spread the news of Logan and Remy's relationship by then." 

 

As this little confrontation had developed, I found myself by turns shamed, confused, and angered. The confidence I'd been slowly growing had faded into nothingness. I wanted to run away. Hide from all of them. Logan moved closer and draped one arm around my shoulders. 

 

"Logan," I whispered. "Remy needs t' go 'way from dis place." 

 

"Okay, kid. We're going." He reached for the box of food, awkwardly trying to balance it under one arm while keeping the other around my shoulders. 

 

"Let me," Jean intervened. "I'll carry the box; you concentrate on Remy." She lifted the box and raised an eyebrow at Logan. "I'll put the food away when we get back to the boathouse. I think Remy needs your full attention - a little snuggling is just what he needs right now." 

 

I opened my mouth to complain. 

 

"Shaddup, bub. You heard Red. Do as she says." 

 

Scott nodded emphatically. "No use arguing, Gambit. She always gets her way." 

 

*** 

 

Back at the boathouse, I stood numbly in the living room, vaguely aware of Jean heading into the kitchen. Logan gathered a blanket from the floor and settled himself on the sofa. 

"Get over here, darlin'. You heard Jeannie tell us to cuddle, and cuddle we will." 

 

More than his words, my own desire to be held and comforted got me moving. I sat next to him, moving into his waiting arms and reveling in the way he draped the blanket around my shivering form. Leaning into him with a shaky sigh, I concentrated on the steady beat of his heart under my ear. Small noises from the kitchen sounded for a few minutes, then stopped. 

 

"Thanks, Jean," Logan rumbled. 

 

"No problem, Logan. We'll talk later - after the meeting." 

 

Eyes firmly closed, I ignored them. I couldn't even begin to deal with thinking about what kind of backlash this 'meeting' might cause. Besides, something else - something Jean had said - was uppermost in my mind right then. I didn't look at her, much less speak, before she left us alone. 

 

"Cher?" I asked after I'd warmed up a bit. 

 

"Yeah, Rem?" 

 

"'Bout what Jeannie said-" 

 

"The L-word, ya mean? What about it?" 

 

"I...I t'ought y'd be upset. Sayin' dat in front of *him*." 

 

"Nah. I don't give a flyin' fuck what he thinks." 

 

"What you t'ink, cher? D' y'..." 

 

"Love ya? Dunno, Rem, it's too soon to tell. This is happening so fast, darlin'. Love and trust don't come easy ta me. We're friends. I do care fer ya - but I've been a loner fer years." 

 

I started to pull away. Space. I needed space. To think. 

 

"No," he said, tightening his hold on me. "I ain't saying it ain't possible. I just... Let me show ya how I feel. Wanna make love ta ya - an' wake up with ya in bed, come mornin'." 

 

"Mais, Logan, I t'ink-" 

 

"No more talk, Cajun. Not now, anyway. I'm starved an' ya need ta get somethin' in yer stomach. Sit here an' rest while I fix us a meal." 

 

Disengaging himself from me, Logan headed off to the kitchen. Wrapped in my blanket, I quietly considered his words, the possibilities. Was it conceivable that he might grow to love me? What was love anyway? I'd never loved or been loved. Could this warmth, this trust, these butterflies in my stomach, mean love? Or, was it as he said, too soon to tell? 

 

Lost in thought, I started when he yelled to me from the kitchen. "Get off yer ass, Gambit. Make yerself useful." 

 

"Bossy, ain' y'?" 

 

"I'm doing the cooking, least ya can do is set the table." 

 

Relieved to be back on more familiar footing with Logan, I grumbled as I set the table. Together, we carried our plates into the dining area. 

 

"What y' tryin' t' do, poison Remy?" I asked, poking suspiciously at the bland meal he'd prepared for me. "What is dis, anyway?" 

 

"Food, idiot." 

 

"Mais... chicken an' rice? And what's *dis*?" I asked, viewing the protein drink at my place with disdain. "I ain' drinkin' dis." 

 

"Ya want me ta call Hank? Or Jean? Tell 'em yer giving me trouble?" 

 

 

Sighing, I tested the food. Surprised to find that it was actually edible, I ate with more enthusiasm. Then, I tasted the protein drink. Awful didn't even begin to describe it. Nothing could possibly taste so bad and be good for a person. Grimacing, I pushed the glass to one side. 

 

"Drink it. All of it, bub." 

 

"Tastes like chalk. Chocolate flavored chalk." I frowned and pushed the offending liquid further away. 

 

He shoved it back. "I said, drink it. Hank says ya need the stuff." 

 

"Non." 

 

"No drinkie, no nookie." 

 

"I hate y', Wolvie." 

 

He just smiled at me. "Drink." 

 

No fool, I, my plate was clean in record time. I even managed to choke down that nasty, chalky, supposedly good for me, protein drink. "Dere," I announced proudly. "All done." 

 

"Good job, kid," he said, rising from his seat and starting to clear the table. 

 

I made a move to help, but he shook his head. "I got it, Rem." 

 

"But... wanna get dis done fast so we c'n... Y' promised m', cher. Y' said that if I ate, we'd-" 

 

He snickered. "Yep, I sure did. And we will. But first, I want ya ta get naked, wash up, and lay down fer a bit. Upstairs. No floor this time, darlin'. There's a big, soft bed just callin' our names." 

 

"Mais..." I protested, shivering at the thought. 

 

"Remy, I won't be long," he reassured me. "It'll be fine - ya'll see." 

 

I looked away, not wanting to argue the matter and not wanting to disappoint him by being a baby about it. He felt my fear and hesitation, though. 

 

"Tell ya what, go and take a hot shower, then dress in warm clothes and wrap yerself up in a heavy blanket. That'll keep ya warm until I get upstairs." Grinning, he wriggled his eyebrows teasingly. "I'll enjoy unwrapping and undressing ya." 

 

"'Kay," I agreed doubtfully. "Remy'll try." 

 

"Good. And, Rem, will ya *please* quit that third person shit? I know ya do it outa fear, but this is me. Ya can read my emotions; can't ya feel how much I care, that I'd never hurt ya?" 

 

"Oui, Logan. I can feel dat y'care. It's just... it's a habit, I s'pose. I'll work on dat. Promise." 

 

"Thanks. Now," he waved me towards the stairs, "go on up and take that shower." 

 

*** 

 

I stood under the warm shower, relishing the heat as I wondered at the inner warmth Logan's care provided me. Logan. An unexpectedly complex man, I'd discovered. As Wolverine, he was capable of extreme violence. And, as Logan he was surprisingly gentle with the kids, particularly Jubilee and Kitty. Gruff, yes. But kind. 

 

I found it almost impossible to believe that his gentleness was offered to me, too. Outwardly gruff, he couldn't hide his softer side, not now that he'd let me establish an empathic link between us. 

 

I think he was as surprised by his feelings as I was. 

 

Lost in thought, I didn't even hear the bathroom door open. I jumped when Logan pushed the shower curtain aside - then blushed as he viewed my naked body with approval. 

 

"Whatcha trying ta do, drown yerself?" Reaching in, he turned off the water. "Come outa there, 'fore yer skin gets any more wrinkled. Ya look like a prune already." 

 

He turned and grabbed a towel, unfolding it and holding it open invitingly. "C'mon, kid. Lemme dry ya off." 

 

"C'n dry m'self, Logan. Ain' no bebe, me." 

 

"I know that, Rem. Jest wanna touch ya. I'm gonna get ya dried off and into bed." He grinned lasciviously. "Then I'm gonna touch ya some more." 

 

A little embarrassed and a lot eager, I allowed him to do as he wished. With utmost care, he dried every inch of my body. I'd never experienced anything of the like. The rising lust in him, humming across our link and resounding through my body, eased my reticence about standing there naked while he ran a towel over me. When he lingered over my private parts, I surprised myself by moaning aloud with pleasure and anticipation. 

 

"Wan' y', Logan." 

 

"Ya got me, darlin'." 

 

Grinning, he guided me into the bedroom. "Lay down, Rem." 

 

"Wanna undress y'," I argued. 

 

Shaking his head, he said, "Not this time. Ya'll get a chill if ya don't get under the blanket." 

 

I pouted but did as he asked. Once settled, I folded my hands behind my head and smiled. "Gonna give m' a show, cher?" 

 

A slow tide of red colored his cheeks. "I ain't no stripper, kid," he grumped. Efficiently, he disrobed and climbed in beside me. 

 

Turning onto my side, I reached out for him. 

 

"Uh uh," he said, pushing me down to lie flat. "This time we do things differently. 

Gonna show ya how good a lover's hands can make ya feel. Gonna touch ya, taste ya... make ya come fer me." 

 

I knew that he recognized my fears and wouldn't push me past my limits; still, old memories nudged at me. Memories of being used, of submission being forced on me. 

"Hey," Logan said quietly, turning my face towards his with a gentle touch. "Ya know I won't hurt ya. I ain't like them other men, Remy. Just gimme a chance, okay? If ya can't handle it yet, we got plenty of other options." 

 

"I... Logan, it ain' y', cher. Jus' dat de past sometimes..." 

 

"I know that, kid. An' I'll be careful." He stroked my jawline with his fingertips. "Don't ya want me ta touch ya? Taste ya? Suck ya?" 

 

Oh, God. That voice of his. The low purr of his words sent butterflies dancing in my stomach. Even if his desire for me hadn't been singing through our link, that voice would have convinced me of his sincerity. 

 

Suddenly restless, I shifted against the sheets. "Please," I whispered. "Show me." 

 

And he did. Oh, how he did. 

 

Moving closer, he pressed his mouth to mine. "Ya've got the softest lips," he murmured. "Open up fer me, Rem. Let me in." 

 

We kissed for what seemed forever. I couldn't get enough - was completely lost in the way his mobile tongue explored my mouth, the way he invited me to return the favor, the way he nibbled and sucked on my lower lip. My fear slipped away as if it had never been. 

 

When his hand started to lightly move down my neck to my chest, I arched up into the touch and whimpered faintly. Warm, soft fingers traveled past my clavicle and circled gently around one nipple. 

 

"Oh!" I gasped. "C'est bon, Logan. Do dat 'gain." 

 

Continuing his attentions to my sensitive nipples, his mouth moved up to my neck. The way he kissed, nibbled and sucked the skin there had me humming with dazed approval. 

"More?" he asked, lifting his head to look at me. 

 

"Stop now an' I'll be forced t' hurt y', cher." 

 

Chuckling at my words, he pushed the blanket down to my waist. Still softly caressing my chest, he slid lower on the bed and followed the random trails of his fingers with his lips. I nearly went through the roof when his tongue wetted one nipple then pulled back just enough to blow a stream of air across it. 

 

I'd never known, never imagined, that such a simple touch could affect me so drastically. It did, though. My cock was harder than it had ever been, and I was so close to coming that I seriously doubted my ability to last until he even got below my waist. 

 

Breathing deeply, I concentrated on control. I wanted more. I wanted him to keep touching me until the end of time. 

 

Logan glanced up at me, a little concerned at the way my muscles had tightened. "Ya doin' okay there, kid?" 

 

"Jus' need a minute, cher. Don' wanna come too soon." 

 

Relieved, he nuzzled at my chest while I conjugated Latin verbs in my head. Eventually, I calmed a little. Drawing in a deep breath, I said, "'M 'kay now." 

 

One quick twitch of his hand, and the blanket was thrown to the bottom of the bed. "We don't need that now. Ya feel plenty warm ta me." 

 

A brief but thorough oral examination of my lower abdomen and navel soon had me gasping, right back on that edge once more. Teasingly, he bypassed the part of me that was screaming for attention, scooting down further to taste my knee. Then my thigh. Pausing at the join of thigh and hip, he smirked up at me and moved over to give my other leg the same attention. 

 

Evil, *wonderful*, bastard. 

 

He was killing me by slow degrees with pleasure. Ever so slowly, he made his way to the apex of my thighs, grinned up at me briefly, and licked my balls. 

 

"Logan," I pleaded, hands clenched in his hair. "Y're makin' me crazy. 'M gonna die if y' don'-" 

 

With a swift move, he closed his warm, wet mouth around my erection. And - God almighty - what a talented mouth he has. Writhing at the sensations of his tongue licking me, of the way he sucked on me, then lightly scraped his teeth along the length of my cock, I lost it. 

 

In a big way. 

 

"Jesus! Oh, God, *Logan*! Don't stop. Please don't stop. That's so good. Never felt... I can't... I'm going to-" 

 

With a scream that was probably heard all the way up at the mansion, I came. My heart pounded; my toes tingled; my entire body shuddered and curled up around him as the strongest orgasm I'd ever had was torn from me. 

 

When I opened my eyes again, somehow I was lying flat, the pillow I'd shoved to the floor back under my head, and Logan was beside me again, holding me close. 

 

"Remy?" 

 

I cleared my throat, surprised at how sore it felt. Must've been one hell of a scream... "Gimme a minute, cher. Y' jus' 'bout did poor ole Remy in wit' dat'. Soon as I c'n move, I'll see what I c'n do for y'." 

 

A wave of amusement came to me via the link. "I came when ya did, darlin'. That empathy of yers... I felt every moment of yer orgasm." 

 

"Y' did?" Concerned, I frowned. "Is dat a good thing?" 

 

"The best, Rem. Can't wait ta do it again." 

 

"Mmmm. Sounds good t' m'." I yawned. "Mebbe after a li'l nap?" 

 

"Sure, kid. Ya wore me out, too." 

 

I snuggled closer to him and prepared to drift off into sleep. 

 

"Oh, Remy?" Uh oh. He sounded entirely too pleased with himself there. My name, following an innocent little 'Oh' shouldn't set off any alarms - even if it was delivered in an unimaginable kind of a sing-song cadence. If I hadn't heard it with my own ears, I'd never have believed it possible. 

 

"Oui?" I asked cautiously. 

 

"Ya blew yer cover, bub. Ya may be a Cajun, but I heard clear, concise, unaccented English comin' outa yer mouth." 

 

Well, damn. 

 

"Logan... I, um, I might be a little smarter than I've let on." 

 

"No shit!" 

 

"I've been to college. A couple of colleges, actually." 

 

"Go on..." 

 

"I have a bachelors degree in art history from The Art Institute of Chicago." 

 

"And?" 

 

"Ah, an MBA from Yale." 

 

"Uh huh. That all?" 

 

"I studied world history at Cambridge for a year or two." 

 

"Remy... exactly how old are you?" 

 

"Twenty-four." 

 

"So, you started college when you were, what? Five?" 

 

"Was fifteen when Pere sent m' t' Chicago," I admitted reluctantly. He'd ask more questions - questions that would bring those bad old memories back to haunt me. 

 

"Hey, take it easy, kid. Yer gettin' all upset over this. I ain't gonna go tellin' anyone yer secrets." 

 

"Not that, Logan. I know you wouldn't do that. It's just that the whole subject brings up... things I don't like to think about." 

 

"Don't worry about it, darlin'. I ain't gonna force ya ta talk about anything." 

 

"I never told anyone about most of it... might be good for me." 

 

"Probably so. If ya do wanna talk, I'm here to listen. Anytime." 

 

"Some of it is... not nice," I warned. 

 

"Look, Rem, I care 'bout ya. Won't pass judgement or anything." He snorted. "Hell, what little I know of my own past ain't exactly pretty." 

 

"You've been alone most of the time, right?" 

 

"Yeah. Seemed safer that way. But this place, Xavier's, it's almost like a home ta me. Took some time ta adjust, being in one place, around so many people. But, I kinda got used ta it - and it's nice being accepted. Some of 'em even like me a little, I think." 

 

Without conscious decision, I lapsed back into my normal speech pattern. "I know y' don' 'member much from 'fore Weapon X..." I began hesitantly. 

 

He sighed, "Go ahead and ask, Rem. Yer curiosity is making my head hurt." 

 

"Was jus' wonderin' if you 'member anythin' 'bout y'r childhood." 

 

"I have... dreams sometimes. Never remember anything concrete - more of a feeling of home, ya know? An' I have an impression of being loved and protected by a woman. Those dreams leave me with a peace of mind and a longing ta know more. I always think that if I could've dreamed for another moment, I'd have a picture of her in my mind." 

 

"Mebbe... mebbe y' could tell me more 'bout dem one day?" 

 

"I might." He chuckled. "If ya catch me in the right mood." 

 

"Logan?" 

 

"Yeah, kid?" 

 

"Does dat mean... are we gonna..." Afraid I was pushing his boundaries, I let my words trail off. 

 

To my amazement, he not only knew what I was trying to ask, he responded. "Think so, darlin'. I know this is happening fast, but it feels right." He pressed a light kiss to my cheek. "Now, quit yer jabbering and let me get some shuteye." 

 

Secure in the knowledge that he'd be there when I woke, I smiled and agreed. "'Kay, cher. Sleep well." 

 

"Mmmm," he hummed. Then gave a rumbling purr and started to snore. 

 

*** 

 

_I will serenade you_

_All along the way_

_I will serenade you_

_Any way you say_

_Let Me Serenade You_

_J. Finley_


End file.
